Gemotions

The card, a sickly pink, seemed to hum with an artificial energy that grated on Marcus' nerves. He had no birthday coming up. That fact made the presence of the card that much more irritating. He knew the sender was someone who was trying to get a reaction out of him.

He crumpled the card in his fist, relishing the sound of the paper giving way. He imagined the sender, waiting for his response, their face lit up with a self-satisfied grin. That thought made him angry.

He stomped over to his fireplace, tossed the crumpled card in, and lit it with a match. He watched the flames consume the paper and then walked away, without once looking back.